Page 8 of King

King exchanged a look with Jake, a look that spoke volumes. Without hesitation, he gripped her arm. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 4

Amara clung to King, her arms wrapped tightly around the solid frame of a man she didn’t know, her fingers gripping his jacket as if her life depended on it. The wind whipped her white hair around her face, but she didn’t care. Her heart pounded in rhythm with the thrum of the engine beneath her. Every mile they sped covering ground she prayed it wasn’t too late.

The ache in her chest grew heavier with each passing second. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess, tangled with fear, guilt, and desperation. These men didn’t trust her. Their suspicion had been evident in every glance and sharp word. She knew they had questions about her sudden appearance, but explanations would have to wait. Her only focus right now was Joey.

Her mind raced with memories of her nephew, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, his fierce loyalty despite the struggles he faced with his father. The idea of losing him tightened her throat with dread. She had kept her distance for too long, wrapped in her own battles, living on the edges of two worlds that had no place for her. Joey was a rare light in a life filled with shadows.

Now, that light was flickering. And she was the only one who could keep it from going out.

The bike leaned into a sharp turn, gravel spitting from the tires as King handled the machine with practiced precision. She felt the tension in his shoulders and sensed the storm brewing in his mind even though he remained silent. His concern for Joey burned as fiercely as her own, and that common ground, however tenuous, gave her a sliver of hope.

Her eyes lifted to the darkening sky, clouds swirling in ominous shapes that mirrored her turmoil.Hold on, Joey. Please hold on.

When they pulled into the hospital lot, the tires screeched, and King brought the bike to a hard stop. Amara slid off, her legs shaky but determined. She followed him through the doors, her heart hammering with a thousand unspoken fears.

King didn’t look at her as he pushed through the hallway, but his voice cut through the air like a blade. “You better be telling the truth.” His tone was stern and fierce.

Amara’s chin lifted, her resolve hardening even as her hands trembled. “I am.”

For Joey, she would face the questions, the judgment, and whatever wrath these warriors brought down on her. Because if she were too late, nothing else would matter.

They rushed through the hospital doors, King leading the way, his long strides purposeful as if he had walked this path a hundred times before. Amara quickened her pace to keep up, her pulse racing in sync with her growing dread. Every sterile hallway and every whitewashed wall pressed down on her like a weight. She could feel the unspoken tension between her and the men flanking her, but she didn’t care.

“Is Lee here too?” she asked the other man walking beside her, her voice barely masking the tremor of anxiety.

Jake didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, and he kept moving, his focus locked straight ahead. Amara bit down on her frustration and kept her questions to herself...for now. Every second mattered, and she couldn’t afford to waste them on anger.

They turned a corner, and King approached a young woman with short, dark hair streaked with vivid blue at the tips. She had an air of calm authority, but there was a sadness behind the calm.

“Is Slade back there?” Jake asked, his voice sharp, direct.

“Yeah,” the woman answered, her gaze shifting to Amara before returning to King, her expression heavy with sorrow. “Jessie’s with Joey too.”

Amara's heart twisted painfully at the mention of her nephew’s name. She clenched her fists to keep from trembling.

The woman’s eyes, dark and full of empathy, lingered on King. Her next words hit like a punch to the gut. “He’s in bad shape, King. His leg...” The woman’s words stopped as she stared up at King.

The weight of those words settled on the group like a lead curtain. Amara’s breath hitched, and her vision swam for a moment. Fear coiled in her stomach like a living thing.

“Take me to him,” Amara demanded, stepping forward, her voice fierce with determination.

“Who the fuck is she?” The woman’s eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking between Amara and King, sharp with suspicion. Her posture shifted defensively as if she were ready to step between Joey and a potential threat.

Amara didn’t flinch, though her heart raced. She held the woman’s intense stare, refusing to shrink under the scrutiny.

King remained silent for a beat longer than Amara would have liked, his expression unreadable as he studied her. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady but guarded.

“His aunt,” he said simply.

The woman didn’t introduce herself but eyed Amara carefully. “Do you know who would want to do this to Joey?”

“Maybe,” Was all Amara said. “But until I see him and help him, that’s all I’m going to say. Nothing else matters but getting Joey the blood he needs.”

Once again, the woman glanced at King, and Amara saw him nod in her peripheral vision. She didn’t say another word as she led the way, pushing open a door that revealed a small room filled with the hum of machines and the sterile, suffocating smell of antiseptics.

Amara’s eyes landed on the fragile figure of Joey lying on the bed. His skin was pale, and his breaths shallow. Tubes and wires seemed to sprout from every inch of him, and her heart clenched painfully at the sight. He had bruises and scrapes on his face, with one cheek swollen. She heard the cursing from King as well as Jake, who rushed toward a woman who was standing next to Joey’s bed and took her in his arms.

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